The Golden Deb
by ABC Girl
Summary: CSI Miami A work of art does great things for the HC ship.


Title: The Golden Deb (1/1)  
  
Author: Andrea (abc3969@juno.com)  
  
Rating: R, just to be safe.  
  
Pairing: While I might explore the potential of other duos on occasion, my heart will always return to Horatio/Calleigh; and so, to my own muse I must be true.  
  
Disclaimer: Me no profit; you no sue.  
  
Archive: Is anybody archiving these? If so, just say so. I'll come visit. Eve, be my guest.  
  
Spoilers: None  
  
Author's Notes: I hope the translation from brain to paper doesn't lose anything. This one came to me in a "flash" and had basically written itself instantly. I couldn't write fast enough to keep up with the images in my head.  
  
Summary: Calleigh's artist friend surprises her with a work of art that does great things for her relationship with Horatio.  
  
~~~~~  
  
The Miami-Dade Crime lab's current case wasn't progressing quickly enough. The only lead worth following had promptly shriveled and dried up. When he realized that the team as a whole was tired, overworked and discouraged, Horatio wisely intervened, displaying his trademark professional acumen by ordering his CSIs to go home, go dancing, go anywhere away from the lab for an entire twenty-four hours. Then they could all come back and start fresh.  
  
After several weeks of affectionate needling and gentle insistence, he had artfully convinced Calleigh to back away briefly when she felt stress begin to overwhelm, and she was beginning to feel more comfortable doing just that. She took child-like pride in admitting to him privately that she was a "recovering workaholic."  
  
Her new lifestyle gradually taking hold, Calleigh was enjoying down time for once-especially if it was spent with Horatio. The duo was inching toward intimacy at a dilatory pace. So, when a certain invitation came to her through the mail, she made haste to arrange for Horatio to be her date.  
  
"Horatio. I need a favor."  
  
"Shoot."  
  
"This one's personal. Is that okay?" she asked tentatively.  
  
"Anything.always," he vowed.  
  
"A friend of mine has a new art exhibit at the Galleria and I need an escort to the opening. Would you be willing to."  
  
Before she could finish her question, he chimed in, "Name the time and I'll be there. You don't even have to ask."  
  
She delivered a quick peck to his cheek, flashing her most brilliant smile.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Calleigh looked radiant in her black sheath dress and matching enticingly high heels, her hair piled at the back of her head and secured with a black jewel-encrusted claw comb.  
  
For his evening attire the night of the opening, Horatio chose his black Armani suite with monochromatic accents. Calleigh wistfully noted what a striking presence he made.  
  
Aiming to tilt her off balance a little, he repaid her compliment with a truth of his own.  
  
"Flattery will get you everywhere, Detective." He knew she favored that particular endearment as only he could verbalize it.  
  
For some reason she couldn't name, she got a secret thrill every time he called her that.  
  
By now, she had fallen into step with him concerning their banter. She was no longer afraid to issue a witty, or even racy, retort, as long as they were alone. So, instead, it was Horatio who was shocked when Calleigh made a great show of batting her eyelashes at him and threw him the proverbial "curveball."  
  
"Is that a promise or a threat, Lieutenant?"  
  
She breezed by him, headed for his Lincoln Navigator, completely oblivious to the look of amazement and unbridled adoration on Horatio's face. As she stood beside the vehicle waiting for him to unlock the door, she caught sight of him reflected in the window. Even in mirror image, his face was slack and his smile tender. He stepped up behind her, intentionally brushing his chest to her back while leaning in to fit the key in the lock.  
  
"Which do you want it to be, Calleigh?"  
  
She didn't breathe for a few beats. Horatio, also taking advantage of the reflections in the window, chuckled to see her eyes fly open wide in a mix of distress and shock.  
  
Ever the gentleman, he didn't want to frighten her away. Their newfound closeness and deepening trust was as precious to him as to her. He nudged her side, gently suggesting that she face him. She turned, but bowed her head rather than look him in the eye. Needing to affirm his connection with her, he slowly stroked her jaw and carefully lifted her chin, dragging her eyes to meet his. He took her face in both hands and leaned his forehead into hers.  
  
"There's no pressure here, Cal. You set the pace. The way I see it, you're worth the wait."  
  
He punctuated his words by drawing her close to him for a slow lingering kiss, the sweetness of it bringing tears to Calleigh's eyes.  
  
"Oh, Lord, Horatio," she said, dabbing at the tears before they had a chance to fall. "What am I going to do with you?"  
  
"Trust me. Love me. Let me love you. Let me show you how perfect it could be."  
  
His directness startled her.  
  
A watery grin forming slowly on her face, she cupped his neck with her hand, holding his gaze for long seconds, then brushed his cheek with her thumb.  
  
"Let's go, Handsome. We're gonna be late."  
  
~~~~~  
  
The rooms of the Galleria were lit by ambient track lighting and muted backlights. Fashionably dressed men and gloriously coiffed women strolled leisurely through the exhibits. Rivers of champagne flowed freely and trays of canapés glided through the crowd hoisted over the shoulders of tuxedo-bedecked waiters.  
  
Horatio lifted two glasses of Dom for Calleigh and himself and walked just a step behind, surreptitiously observing her in an unguarded moment of quiet contentment. As they moved from one piece to the next, Calleigh began to notice that passers-by were doing rather obvious double takes when they saw her. She commented as much to Horatio, but he was transfixed by her innocent enjoyment of the artsy affair and hadn't noticed.  
  
The more they wandered through the gallery, the more stares she received. They weren't rude, exactly, merely uncomfortable. As people began to realize who they were looking at and how they recognized her, they no longer stared so much as smiled. After a few fairly blatant looks and whispers as people passed by, even Horatio began to suspect that something was amiss.  
  
From out of nowhere, a whirlwind of vibrant color and lilting laughter made its way toward them, the crowd parting to let the exotic owner of that voice make her way to her destination-directly in front of Calleigh.  
  
"Oooh, Calleigh-Deb, I just you'd come!" the raven-haired spitfire gushed.  
  
"Hey, Maggie-Deb! I wouldn't have missed this for anything, Girl!" Calleigh beamed right back.  
  
The two Southern Belles embraced, never stopping their girlish chatter. As they broke apart, Horatio couldn't help but interject,  
  
"No doubt there's a story here."  
  
Calleigh and her friend both looked at him then, and burst into gales of laughter. Horatio's eyebrow arched dangerously close to his hairline, but his smile was genuinely affectionate.  
  
"Oh, Horatio. I'm sorry. I got caught up all of a sudden. Lieutenant Horatio Caine, meet Margaret "Mags" Thibideux."  
  
Mags reached for Horatio, pulling him into a friendly hug before he could react.  
  
"So, this is THE Horatio Caine. I see." she nodded appreciatively.  
  
"Excuse me?" The eyebrow, again, shot up perilously high.  
  
Calleigh grinned but kept right on talking.  
  
"Okay. "Reader's Digest" version. Mags and I grew up together in Darnell, the best of pals. Our mothers groomed us from birth to be presented as debutantes, just like they had been."  
  
"But we were more interested in climbing trees and shooting rifles than learning to waltz." Mags added.  
  
"Right up until the night of our coming out cotillion," they giggled in unison.  
  
"Mags, I have to know something and don't tell me it's my imagination, 'cuz it's not. Lots of people have been staring at me and smiling tonight. What's the scoop?"  
  
"Come with me, you two. There's something you need to see." Mags inserted herself between Horatio and Calleigh, taking each by the arm and propelling them all forward toward the main gallery where the centerpiece was showcased.  
  
"Mags." Calleigh was losing her jovial mood.  
  
"Oh, tsk, tsk." Mags clucked her tongue in reply.  
  
"The showcase piece is a portrait I did. I hope you like it. Calleigh- Deb, surely you remember how much I envied you your long blonde hair when we were kids."  
  
"Ha. I remember the summer you poured a whole bottle of peroxide over your head and had to spend the entire fall wearing baseball caps to hide the mess you made!"  
  
"Eventually, you were the real deb. I was just the dark-haired stepsister."  
  
"Yeah. I stayed behind to play the part for Mama while you ran off to art school!"  
  
"And look at us now. We've done alright for ourselves." Mags admitted. "Anyway, I've created a piece that pays homage to all I left behind. I call it "The Golden Deb."  
  
Mags swept her arm to the side, bringing their attention to the painting.  
  
Calleigh gasped in surprise and turned astonished eyes to Maggie.  
  
"Oh, my God, Mags."  
  
"You like?"  
  
"It's stunning, but I prefer the living, breathing subject to this one." Horatio admitted honestly.  
  
"Oooh, Cal, hang on to this charmer. He's a keeper."  
  
Horatio wagged that pesky eyebrow yet again, saying, "You should listen to her. I like her, by the way."  
  
"You stop!" Calleigh smiled.  
  
The tall, narrow oil painting hung, suspended by guide wires, from the ceiling. The ornate gilt frame gleamed in the track lighting around it. The focal point of the canvas was supposed to be a simple whitewashed antebellum gazebo surrounded by flowers and shrubs in deep, rich jewel tones, the fading sunset creating a pallet all its own in the distance; however, Horatio and Calleigh where enthralled by the young woman standing the gazebo. The diminutive belle, in three-quarter profile, leaned casually against the side of the structure, one hand resting on the banister, the other wrapped loosely around the support column, her long blonde hair and the skirt of her gauzy white dress billowing out behind her in the Bayou breeze. Her face was, unquestionably, Calleigh's face.  
  
"It is beautiful, Mags, but why me? Why my face?"  
  
"Because when I think of home, your face is what I see in my mind." Maggie explained.  
  
"I'm flattered. Really. Thank you, Mags." Calleigh teared up for the second time that night, Horatio chivalrously offering her a cocktail napkin in lieu of a handkerchief.  
  
The gallery owner stepped up then, demanding Mag's attention.  
  
"Duty calls, Deb. If I don't see you again later, call me tomorrow."  
  
The debs hugged fiercely with Horatio looking on.  
  
Mags rushed away, leaving the couple to admire the painting.  
  
"She captured your beauty, but she'll never capture your spirit." Horatio observed.  
  
"I feel silly standing here gaping at a picture of myself. Let's keep looking around."  
  
She guided him out of the main gallery and moved toward some abstract sculptures in another area.  
  
Only a little while later, Mags caught up with the duo and engaged Calleigh in another animated conversation. Horatio took the opportunity to slip away unnoticed, rightly figuring he wouldn't be missed.  
  
"You know, Mags, I've been thinking about your painting all evening. I think I'd like to buy it."  
  
The two friends embraced again. "I'm so glad. Let's go get it."  
  
Calleigh's smile faded instantly when she got a look at the portrait this time. A prominently placed "SOLD" banner was draped over the top right corner of the frame.  
  
"Well, that's that. I just wasn't meant to have it." Calleigh lamented.  
  
Horatio made his presence known by subtly clearing his throat.  
  
"Calleigh, we should probably get going. Wouldn't want to keep you out too late on a school night," he teased.  
  
"Right. Mags, it was fabulous seeing you again. We'll have dinner before you head back to New York."  
  
Horatio guided Calleigh out of the gallery with his hand stationed securely in the small of her back.  
  
As they were driving home, Horatio became concerned with Calleigh's sudden melancholy.  
  
"You're awfully quiet. Everything okay?"  
  
"Yes. Sure. I'm just a little disappointed, that's all. I went back to buy the painting, but someone had beaten me to it."  
  
"I saw that. I'm sorry. Maybe Maggie can do another one for you."  
  
They rode on in pensive silence.  
  
At her door, Calleigh asked Horatio in for a drink, but he declined, promising another time soon. Instead, he enveloped her in his embrace and laid a kiss first on her forehead, then on her lips.  
  
~~~~~  
  
The following day, they barely saw each other. Calleigh had been called out to another case and Horatio was buried in long-neglected paperwork.  
  
Oh, but the day after that, Horatio's subtle seduction of Calleigh's heart took a decidedly more direct turn. Calleigh had spent the balance of the day sequestered in one lab or another, desperately craving Horatio's presence, his touch.  
  
She rang his cell phone, offering to provide take-out food for dinner at his place in return for a quiet evening alone with him.  
  
Horatio never thought of these offers as a sign of weakness or neediness. In fact, he inwardly celebrated and cheered her courage at being comfortable enough with him to ask at all. He had meant it when he told her that she would set the pace; and every moment they spent alone together shaved a few ticks off the time clock.  
  
Calleigh arrived, Chinese food in tow, and greeted Horatio with an uncharacteristically exuberant kiss . Dinner was an unexpected culinary delight, not so much for the food, but for the lively conversation and sheer pleasure of the company. The main course dispensed, Horatio excused himself to the kitchen.  
  
"I think I can find us a suitable dessert. 'Scuse me."  
  
Calleigh thought she'd use this time to freshen up. As she made her way down the hallway, she took time to glance in the various rooms as she passed by them. His condo was wholly masculine, yet completely homey and inviting. He was as meticulous with his home as he is with his personal appearance. For all the times she'd been here before, the one room she always avoided was his bedroom. She still wasn't sure how she felt about that subject, and going into that room would only complicate matters. But tonight, she felt drawn to the place, as much out of curiosity as out of repressed desire.  
  
The door was pulled to, but not fully closed. Calleigh couldn't fight the urge to inch it open and take a peek inside. The heavy dark furniture was polished to a high sheen and the drapes were pulled together loosely. Nothing was out of place, the bed, made. The walls she could see were decorated with family photos. Unable to resist the temptation to go inside, she took a few steps and turned to see the rest of the room.  
  
Her eyes wide with wonder, Calleigh was torn between absolute joy and utter confusion at what she saw. There, directly opposite Horatio's bed, was painting, painting, hanging in stately splendor. It looked as though it in this room. Still trying to rationalize how and why the painting was here, Calleigh failed to hear Horatio coming up behind her.  
  
He lightly grasped her by the shoulders, eliciting a soft gasp and startled jump from Calleigh. He took the chance that she wouldn't object and slid his arms around her waist, pulling her backward against his chest. She registered her approval by leaning into him, resting her head on his shoulder and wrapping her arms around his.  
  
She dared not speak, the emotions running too close to the surface at the moment.  
  
Horatio knew that any words he were to speak just then would be the most important he would speak. He had to tread carefully.  
  
"This way, your face is the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning."  
  
He waited anxiously for her response, hoping he hadn't just set their intimacy time clock back irreparably.  
  
Her answer came in a flash-she swung around and hugged him to her possessively, then pulled back to look into his eyes.  
  
Tears beginning to form, she spoke sincerely. "That's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me, Handsome."  
  
He took her into his arms more deliberately then, kissing her with all the passion of the ages.  
  
"I had to have the painting. For me, it's just like Mags said the other night, when I think of home, I think of you. You my home. I've known for a while now that I'm meant to be with you. If that painting is as close as I ever get to having you, then that will be enough for me."  
  
"Oh, my dear, darling, Horatio. I love you so. And I think it's about time I moved us out of this limbo we've been in. After all, I couldn't bear thinking of you loving that picture instead of me."  
  
~~~~~  
  
Far into the night, they shared kisses and traded sighs. Passion would have its day, but these moments were all about exploration and discovery, using the senses of touch and taste to build roadmaps through this uncharted territory.  
  
~~~~~  
  
The sun's first rays crept through the drapes, creating a labyrinth of light and shadows on Calleigh's shoulder, a playground meant for Horatio alone. She woke languidly, lightly tickled by a feather-light touch tracing innumerable patterns on her skin. In the blink of an eye, he rolled her beneath him, cocooning her in his arms and better positioning her for a proper "good morning" greeting.  
  
Countless long, indolent kisses later they parted reluctantly.  
  
Horatio regarded her seriously, asking, "Are we okay?"  
  
Her toothy grin and sparkling eyes were all the answer he needed; and as it happened, she felt no need to put voice to her present state of mind. Their innate non-verbal communication skills prevailed yet again.  
  
Horatio rose from the bed, promising a Continental breakfast momentarily.  
  
When he returned, he found Calleigh, wearing only his shirt from the night before, peering out the window into the coming day. He left their breakfast tray on the bed and padded up behind her, wrapping his left arm around her waist and slipping his right hand through the open collar of the shirt to lightly caress her collarbone. He laid a kiss on her cheek, whispering, "Nourishment, my love."  
  
She smiled sweetly and reclined her head to engage him in still more kisses. He luxuriantly slid his hand downward from her collarbone to cup a breast, gently caressing her, stopping only after she gasped in hyper- arousal.  
  
Before the state of affairs could progress beyond all reason, Calleigh squirmed from his grasp, ducking under his arms and around the barrier he presented, to stand before painting.  
  
"It really does look perfect here," Calleigh affirmed.  
  
"No. The painting just takes up space on the wall. look perfect here."  
  
With a saucy grin, Calleigh wondered, "You know, I still have several hours of mandatory 'down time' as ordered by my Lieutenant. Care to spend them with me?"  
  
His roguish chuckle and the agility with which he lifted her off her feet served as her answer.  
  
Finis. 


End file.
